


Living Legend

by ebonlock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonlock/pseuds/ebonlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marauders-era fic, Snape decides he needs some "hands-on" experience and chooses Remus as his very special study partner. But there's more to these extracurricular activities than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Legend

**Author's Note:**

> Moonlightnrain specifically requested some lusty teen-Snupin fic,  
> and I did my best to comply with her wishes. Wasn't going to post this one  
> pubically, but upon a re-reading I decided why not get some feedback? It's  
> my first attempt at teen-fic, and it's surprisingly dark (light and fluffy  
> comedies are my usual stomping grounds), so I'm curious to see how others  
> respond to it. Without further ado.

I was 15, and quite convinced I was going mad.

Oh not the howling, raging madness that I'd become accustomed to since being cursed with lycanthropy. I hated it, avoided thinking about it whenever possible, but it was a known quantity. It had a schedule, a routine. The afternoon of the full moon, go to the Shack, lock myself in with a change of clothing and a sandwich, drag myself back to school the next day. The only thing that changed from month to month were the scars and the associated illnesses I was prone to. January, a bite wound on my left arm and bronchitis. March, wicked splinters along my back that took Madame Pomfrey ages to remove.

I could deal with that though, pain was an old acquaintance already in my short life. What I couldn't deal with was the onset of a truly staggering libido combined with more than my fair share of teen awkwardness, a shy and reclusive personality, and a secret, that if discovered, would ruin me.

Bet you thought I was referring to the fact that I was a werewolf, didn't you? No, in that particular case it was the horrifying discovery that I was gay.

Imagine, if you can, being a 15 year old boy in a dorm full of attractive, hormonally charged adolescents. Now imagine trying not to let on that you find your dormmates, your best friends, mind you, unimaginably sexy. By comparison, lycanthropy seemed the least of my worries. As I say, I was 15 and my priorities were a bit...odd.

Of course they noticed I was different, wondered on more than one occasion why I didn't seem terribly interested in the girls. I'd just settle my most downtrodden expression over my features, slump a bit, and sigh about secrets and how keeping them and dating teenaged girls didn't mix. If they pushed it I'd fall back on the old "I could never lie to someone I loved!" cannard, though lord knows I'd been doing just that for ages. Finally they'd nod sympathetically, give me a friendly pat on the shoulder and go on about their business. It's little wonder I was the brains of this group, is it?

So I took to leaving for the Shack earlier and earlier on one excuse or another, for a little privacy and a lot of wanking. It did pass the time, and gave me a little peace before the wolf came out to play and gobbled it all up again.

On occasion, though, I just couldn't wait until the full moon to meet my own needs. When I woke up aching and moaning with lust, I'd grab a towel and fresh pajamas and sneak as carefully and quietly as possible down to the boys' showers. A little pleasure, a lot of cold water, and I was right as rain with no one the wiser. That is, until one night...

I stood under the spray of lukewarm water, my eyes closed, just enjoying the sensation of it running over my naked body. I spent so much of my time buried under layers of clothing, hiding away my scars and reactions, that I'd forgotten just how luxurious it was to do without any pretense. It was delicious to be so obvious, I revelled in it, but only in solitude, of course. One doesn't survive as a werewolf in wizarding society without the ability to be...discreet.

I'm not sure what it was that made me aware of another presence in the room, perhaps it was nothing more than the certainty that any moment so peaceful and relaxing couldn't possibly last. In any case I turned slightly, wiping water from my eyes to see the last person I'd ever expected. He stood in the doorway, clutching a faded towel to his chest like a shield, his pale skin almost luminous in the faint light my wand produced. Speaking of which, I wished fervently that I hadn't left it halfway across the room atop my fresh pajamas and silently promised myself that next time I'd put it on the damn soap dish.

It didn't pay to be without any kind of defense around a Slytherin, Snivellus in particular.

I eyed him warily, and calculated my chances against several obvious hexes. It was dark enough that his aim might be off, and I took comfort in that. But all the while I fretted about an imminent attack he just stood staring at me with the oddest expression on his face. Finally I barked, "What?"

He started and looked as if he were seriously considering bolting like a frightened rabbit. That was puzzling, he had the upper hand, it wasn't like him not to use it. Instead, he tore his eyes away, walked slowly over to a bench and carefully removed his own clothing, piling it neatly beneath his wand and towel. Then he stepped up to a showerhead as far from mine as he could manage and turned on the spray.

Even in the pale light of my Lumos spell I noticed the bruises. Perhaps life in the Pureblood ranks wasn't all gracious living and rabid bigotry after all. Had he been on the receiving end of a bit of Slytherin hazing, or was it something else? We were all just a few days back from holidays, but I shied away from that thought. The silences and strained smiles I was used to receiving were bad enough, the idea that others faced far worse from their own families wasn't one that I wanted to consider. I was, after all, a werewolf and horded my compassion, doling it out only to those whom I deemed the most deserving. Snape wasn't on that rather short list.

He stood leaning against the wall, his hands spread and fingers splayed. His head was directly under the spray as if he hoped the pounding water might pummel something out of it. Memories, or thoughts, I wondered vaguely? None of my business, was the only answer that fit comfortably and I turned back to my own shower head.

I kept hoping I'd hear him shut off the water and leave, I desperately wanted a return to the illusion of privacy I'd clung to earlier. And, of course, I couldn't attend to my own needs with him standing just a few feet away. Not that I gave a damn what he might think about it if I did, but for the same reason I couldn't make eye contact with anyone at a urinal if I wanted to actually pee. In the latter case I'd trained myself to pretend they weren't there, mostly out of necessity. So far, though, I'd never been able to masturbate in the same room with anyone else. For the most part it was simple pragmatism, no matter how quiet you were in a dorm, someone would hear and they'd *know* what you were doing. Not that it stopped James or Sirius, or even on occasion Peter, but they were different. They weren't gay.

I suppose I was so lost in my own thoughts and just the hint of a growing resentment towards my friends that I hadn't been aware of prior to that, that I missed Snape coming up quietly behind me. I gasped and turned, nearly falling on my ass on the slippery tile. He was just looking at me again, taking in the scars and the all too thin body with the sort of clinical detachment of a Healer. Finally his dark eyes met mine and I read the misunderstanding as plainly as if it were on page 394 of my Dark Creatures text. I opened my mouth to correct him, I meant to do it, but somehow I couldn't. The way he looked at me wasn't antagonistic, for the first time since I'd had the misfortune of meeting the boy, he viewed me as an ally.

"My father's useless." he muttered softly, his voice only slightly louder than the hiss of water. "He's powerless. In a few more years he won't even be able to hit me any more, and then he'll have nothing. Nothing."

I swallowed and stared back at him, feeling a bit heartsick over yet another lie, but nearly giddy with the relief of it. It was horrible of me to let him believe such things of my own parents, but it was so bloody convenient I couldn't resist. And even then the thought of one less enemy in the world was beyond appealing to me.

Without another word he pressed me carefully back against the cold stone wall, to the left side of the showerhead. I shivered and continued to watch him, puzzled and excited all at once. He locked eyes with me again before kneeling down in front of me, almost reverentially, and then he...touched me.

No one, save a few Healers had touched me there before, and none had ever touched me like that. I tried to ask him what he was doing, and more importantly why he was doing it, but my mouth just worked soundlessly. His hands were uncommonly gentle, almost soothing really. One pressed softly against my hip, keeping me motionless, the other rested at the base of my prick, apparently to keep *it* motionless. I managed a soft groan, though I couldn't have said if it signified dread or anticipation.

He finally pulled his eyes away and I sagged a bit, my breath coming in startled little gasps as he took my member into his mouth. The sensation was unexpected, warm, wet, appealing in a way I'd never known and hadn't even dared imagine yet. And at the same time some voice in the back of my brain kept screaming that my prick was currently in the most precarious position possible. All he had to do was bite down, that's all. I couldn't stop shivering.

He started slowly, in and out, a delicate motion of lips and tongue and occasionally teeth. Although the third time I squeaked in protest at his use of the latter he covered his teeth with his lips. He was damned quick, and actually seemed to be paying attention to my responses and modifying his behavior to suit my preferences. Not that I really knew what my preferences were at the moment, but I was discovering them at quite a clip, I can assure you.

It was, in all, alarmingly pleasant and entirely too brief.

He drew away just before I came, and the power of it caused me to rap my head painfully against the wall. I was feeling a bit weak in the knees and was breathing as if I'd just run a marathon. I blinked the stars away and gazed down at him, he was watching my reactions carefully. I managed to gasp, "That was...that was brilliant."

"No, no it wasn't. It was adequate." Snape looked annoyed, though more at himself than me. "It's not what I'd expected. You can only learn so much from books."

I couldn't help wondering if he'd be willing to share his bibliography with me. "What do you...?"

"It's just...it's different. Bella can make it last a lot longer but she won't tell me how, dirty slag." He shrugged his bony shoulders and stood up, massaging his jaw. "I'll figure it out, though. I always figure it out in the end."

I merely nodded as he gave me a significant look, I believed he would do just that. No, I hoped he would, and I even more fervently hoped he'd practice on me. Of course I had no idea how to encourage him to do so, so I just waited and watched him.

"I need to do some research. I'll be back here on Wednesday next, same time. Put an Impenetrable on the door, but leave it keyed to me. If anyone happens by they'll think it's out of order."

I kept on nodding until long after he'd collected his towel, wand, and clothes and left.

And that was how it all began, we began meeting at least once and sometimes twice a week. I began counting the days between our, well I wasn't quite sure what to call them, our "sessions", I suppose. It wasn't long before I was getting hard every time I glanced at him across the Potions classroom, though, thankfully the calculating looks he gave me in return could easily be explained away. Snape's suspicious, maybe he's figured out I'm a werewolf. All it took was a vague allusion or two and Sirius and James closed ranks without a second thought.

I should've felt guilty misleading my friends in such a way, and even guiltier when they upped their petty bullying against Severus, but I already excelled at the fine art of rationalization. Just because the guy was giving me all the head I could possibly wish for didn't mean he wasn't a git. And it's not like he was treating me any better in public either, he was indifferent at best, antagonistic at worst. Nothing had changed between us...and everything had changed between us.

When we were alone together he would sometimes tell me things, just little off hand remarks that gave me odd insights into life in the other great house. After he'd finished demonstrating his latest technical improvements, which had drawn the experience out for much longer and left me whimpering and sliding to the floor, he commented casually, "It turns out Bella really didn't know anything special, despite the rumors. She's not really that interested...in boys anyway. Now Narcissa, on the other hand..."

I shook my head wearily and moaned, "Oh please, I don't want to think about either of them having sex."

His sly look probably should've warned me. "I suppose, then that you wouldn't care to hear the stories about those two and Sirius playing 'Healer' over the summer?"

"God no!" I shuddered and did my best to put the thought from my head. Bellatrix was a fucking nutter, Sirius had said so often enough and from what little I'd seen of her I'd had to agree. The thought that he might have...well, I preferred to think Severus was having a piss. "What are you doing? Why are you, I mean what the hell are you getting out of all this? Why do you keep coming back?"

"Knowledge." He replied shortly, climbing to his feet. "One needs certain skills if one wishes to form worthy alliances. As soon as I discovered that my father would be useless to me in that respect I knew I'd have to look elsewhere. And I am improving, aren't I?"

I nodded wordlessly.

"Good. We all have to fend for ourselves in the end. Well, unless we find ourselves in our own little gang, I suppose. But you'd know far more about that than I." His eyes were narrowed again, he was still smarting from a series of stinging hexes Sirius had hit him with when the two had a hallway run in the day before.

"So you're going to make friends and influence people by giving good head then?"

He smiled in spite of himself and turned away. "Friends? No, what use would I have for those? Alliances, however, are another matter. And I don't intend to give good head, I intend to give **great** head. In fact, I mean to be a legend."

On occasion some of the older students who'd graduated a few years earlier would stop by the school to check in on classmates or chat with the instructors. Some needed recommendations for further education or jobs, and some just seemed unable to stay away from Hogwarts for one reason or another. One who seemed to make the school his home away from home was Lucius Malfoy.

At least twice a month he'd sail into the Great Hall like our very own Ziggy Stardust, tall, stately, aristocratic, and with an androgynous charisma and beauty that couldn't be ignored. He'd inevitably sit at the head of the Slytherin table like a king among his court. You could always tell who was in favor from month to month by their position at the table. I remember Severus sitting several seats away from him, close enough to gaze as adoringly as the rest, but never near enough to actually speak to him or be spoken to.

We met one night after his latest visit and Severus looked entirely too smug as I whimpered and bucked against the wall. "Holy fuck, what did you...?"

"Chewed a bit of mint before arriving. Next time I want to try cinnamon."

"How did you come up with that?"

"Practical experimentation. Tried a bit on myself first, figured out the best amount. Too much is...unpleasant. But now I know it works. I bet Narcissa never thought of that."

"You know Sirius says she's going to marry Malfoy."

Severus shrugged. "So?"

I shrugged in return. "I just thought you might be interested."

"You don't actually think he loves her, do you? It's a sensible arrangement, that's all. He's a Slytherin." He said it as if it were the highest compliment he could imagine. "He'll need a wife...and an heir, and marrying a Black ties the two families together in ways, well quite frankly in ways someone like you could never understand."

"Oh fuck you."

"You wish. Same time next week?"

I did a quick mental calculation and realized it would fall on a full moon. Sighing regretfully I replied, "Can't, I've got plans. Friday night should do for me, though."

"Got a date, then?"

His voice was so casual when he asked that I bristled a bit and almost told him I did. But every good liar knows that you don't say things that could easily be checked, or something that might find its way into the rumor mill. Keep things simple. "Only with my books. See you Friday."

That Friday night was one I'd remember for a long time. Oh how he made me beg for sweet release that night, he took me to the very edge time and time again, then with a secretive smile, drew away to play with my balls or nipples. He kept it going until I thought he'd never let me come, then took me entirely in his mouth. The combination of cinnamon and normally flawless technique with an odd little vibration he'd come up with since our last encounter was finally too much for me. I bellowed and slumped against the wall, I'd all but forgotten to breathe until he smacked my arm to remind me.

"The trick is to hum. I couldn't think of anything so I just used the Sorting Hat's song." He smiled at his own ingenuity. "It's not as easy as it sounds, but the results seem satisfactory."

"Bloody...fucking...brilliant..." I panted.

He stood and put an arm on either side of my shoulders, hands flat on the wall, fencing me in. For one horrible, wonderful moment I thought he might kiss me. I forgot to breathe again.

"This is the end, Lupin. I've learned all I can from you, now it's time to put it to practical use."

My jaw actually dropped. "You mean...you mean we're not..."

"I mean we're not doing this again, there's no more need. I know what I need to now in order to get what I want."

"But..."

"And there's one more thing, Lupin. The next time you and your little chums decide to torment me for your amusement, you're going to think of this night. You won't want to, you'll try not to, but your body will remember it." He leaned in even closer, until I felt his warm breath in my ear. "You'll know deep down that no one will ever make you feel like I did. You'll search for someone who can, but you won't find them. I'm the best you'll ever have in your entire miserable life, and you'll never...have me...again."

With that he straightened, turned away, and walked out the door. I stood there, frozen and numb, for a long time before finally making my way back to the Gryffindor common room. I tried to process everything, make sense of my actions over the past few months, and my emotional reaction to his final words, but nothing added up. I didn't know how to reconcile hatred and desire, the paradox of it all frightened me too deeply. These were things the wolf felt, not me, and so I gave them to it and spent the remainder of the semester burying the rest as far down in my psyche as I could.

Indeed, the next time I saw Severus sitting at the head of the Slytherin table, just to the right of Lucius Malfoy, his eyes glittering with a secret triumph only I could understand, I almost managed to convince myself I didn't care. Almost.


End file.
